Eileen Biser, Linda Rubel, and Rose Marie Toscano

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR: WHEN BASIC WRITERS TAKE THE RHETORICAL STAGE

ABSTRACT: An implicit part of a writing teacher's purpose is to help students find a public voice through writing, encouraging them to become rhetors who take public stances and enact change. Although risk is inherent in any public rhetorical act, when basic writers address those in the mainstream, the risks intensify. These students are chal­lenged not only by the rigors of writing within traditional forms, but also by the burden of persuading from "without." This essay examines the challenges one basic writer, a deaf student at the Rochester Institute of Technology, confronted when she took on the role of public writer. This student's attempt to enact change is analyzed for the sake of uncovering the pedagogical implications that teachers of basic writing must consider when educating students to write for the public sphere.

As teachers of college students, many of us share the goal of en­couraging students to develop their public voice. In disciplines as di­vergent as engineering, political science, and graphic design, faculty emphasize effective speaking and presentation, as well as writing for external audiences. Within the specific field of composition and rheto­ric, one implicit purpose is to help students find their voice through writing, encouraging them to take public stances and enact change. This goal has not always been a primary focus of our pedagogy. A shift over the past twenty years has directed our attention away from the expressivist philosophy of the solitary writer engaged in self-dis­covery and expression championed by Peter Elbow and Donald

Eileen Biser is Associate Professor of Language and Literature at the Nah'onal Technical Insti­tute for the Deaf, one of the eight colleges at the Rochester Insh"tute of Technology. Ms. Biser has taught deaf college students for over 30 years. Her scholarship has been in the areas of composi­h'on, gifted education, deaf educah'on, and cognihve organizah'on. Linda Rubel is Assistant Professor of Language and Literature at the Nah'onal Technical Institute for the Deaf Dr. Rubel has held positions at a variety of universihes and has taught deaf college students since 1985. Her scholarly work has been in the areas of composition, nineteenth century Bn"tish literature, and women's literature. Rose Marie Toscano is Associate Professor of Language and Litera­ture at the Nah'onal Technical Institute for the Deaf Ms. Toscano's disciplinary background is in linguishi:s and ESL. She has been teaching deaf college students for over 20 years and writes and presents regularly on the teaching of writing and literature to non-tradih'onal students. Biser, Rubel and Toscano hove been publishing collaboratively since 1997.

~Journal of Basic Writing, Vol. 21, No.1, 2002

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Murray, to the social constructionist view of writers as agents of change in society, advocated by Patricia Bizzell and Ken Bruffee.

This newer emphasis on social constructionism has allowed stu­dents to see that their interpretive and constructive acts are dependent on social, not solely individual, activities and processes. Additionally, they come to understand that each discourse community has its own practices and conventions that must be learned by any newcomer. Problematic within social constructionism is its failure to acknowledge the difficulty all students have in mastering the conventions of the acad­emy and those of its individual disciplines, what John Trimbur de­scribes as "privileged discourse communit[ies]" (117). Paolo Freire, Ira Shor, and other radical compositionists enlarge upon this critique by arguing that some forms of discourse and some discursive commu­nities are more privileged than others, "silencing those (very often, students) who are not members of the dominant discursive commu­nity" (Weisser 27). In response, radical pedagogy and composition studies have re-directed the discipline to the importance of public writ­ing as a way for students to overcome this silencing.

This movement toward public writing has led many in the field to advocate for service learning in composition courses as well as em­phasizing the importance for students of using their own voice in both initiating and participating in public discussion and reform. In fact, the 2002 Conference on College Composition and Communication pro­moted the theme of "Connecting the Text and the Street," reinforcing the claim that students should take what they already know and pro­duce new texts that move in the direction of social action.

In being asked to write for the public sphere, however, basic writ­ers are challenged not only by the rigors of writing within the tradi­tional forms of the empowered discourse communities cited by Trimbur, but also by the burden of persuading from "beyond the boundary." Mike Rose uses this phrase to describe the place in the academy often held by students because of gender, color, ethnicity, and/ or class. We posit here that his definition should be expanded to include those students marginalized because of the differences in lan­guage and culture resulting from deafness. Although risk is inherent in any public rhetorical act, when marginalized students use writing to advocate for reform within the public sphere, these risks intensify.

In this essay we examine the unique set of circumstances that one deaf student at the Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) con­fronted when she took on the role of public writer. We analyze this student's attempt to enact change and discuss the pedagogical impli­cations that we as teachers must consider when we educate students to write for the public sphere. Although the focus of our study is on one student who is deaf, the implications of our findings apply to teach­ers of basic writers working with the increasing number of marginalized students enrolling in colleges and universities.

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Background

Marginalized because of differences in language and culture, the 1100 deaf students at Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) are, on the one hand, the most visible component of the population. Their use of sign language coupled with their large numbers in mainstream class­rooms and in the extracurricular life of the college highlight their pres­ence on campus. However, they are largely invisible in the public con­versations of the university where policy and practice are debated. Recently, one deaf student emerged from the margin when she en­tered the public discourse to raise awareness regarding issues of sign language interpreting in the academic classroom/ community.

Since the first deaf students arrived at the National Technical In­stitute for the Deaf (NTID) at RIT in 1968, sign language interpreting has been their primary means of access to information in mainstream classrooms. Interpreters translate into sign language all spoken com­munication in the classroom as well as rendering into voice deaf stu­dents' signed comments. Interpreting responsibilities range from cap­turing a lecture, to signing a film, to representing accurately the "voice" of a student presentation. Beyond the classroom, interpreters often accompany students to meetings with faculty, staff, and administra­tors. Students clearly depend on interpreters in order to survive- and succeed -in this academic community. Faculty also rely on interpret­ers for their interactions with deaf students. This dependence results in a unique "triangle" of student, instructor, and interpreter. (In fact, the national agency for certifying interpreters- the Registry for Inter­preters for the Deaf (RID)- recognizes potential problems of this third­party presence and has formulated its own code of ethical behaviors). Following are three glimpses into the complicated nature of such three­party interactions:

One faculty member regularly meets with the assigned interpreter after class. She questions him, for example, about deaf students' off-the-point comments and seemingly disrup­tive behavior. While this may appear to be the conversation of a caring teacher and interpreter trying to understand the dynamics of this class, the organization for interpreters would consider these actions inappropriate. First, the interpreter has met with the teacher without the student- the client- present. Second the interpreter has responded to the teacher's request for an analysis of student intentions without the student there for clarification. Finally, and most important, the client has not given permission for this interaction to occur.

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A deaf student has waited until the last minute to prepare his presentation, leaving no time to practice with the inter­preter. Nevertheless, he forges ahead. He knows that the syn­tax is careless, that the transitions are ineffective, and that the diction is simplistic. He also knows that he has previously been able to rely on this interpreter's willingness to edit his text, even though the Interpreter's Code of Ethics stipulates that" faithful" translation from one language to another is re­quired. The presentation receives a high grade. The student in this case has transgressed by taking advantage of the inter­preter, and the interpreter has offered an enhanced rendering of the student's skills.

Before class begins, a group of deaf students is engaged in a casual and private conversation, not unlike the whisperings of their hearing peers. The interpreter assigned to this class has decided that her role requires her to voice all signed com­munication, regardless of its intention. She proceeds to voice this private conversation, making it public. One deaf student, reading the interpreter's lips, realizes what is happening and informs the other members of the group. The conversation comes to a halt. In this case, the interpreter has not differenti­ated between public and private discourse, over-generalizing her role as a facilitator of communication and causing embar­rassment for the deaf students. Nor has she clarified with the students their expectations regarding her voicing of their ca­sual "talk."

These examples would suggest fertile ground for public discus­sion and problem solving regarding the roles and responsibilities of interpreters, which have been both debated within the deaf commu­nity and codified through RID's Code of Ethics. Unfortunately, initi­ating a campus-wide conversation on this topic would create a firestorm for any deaf student bent on reform. Within this community, inter­preters-a scarce and sought-after resource-are highly valued and respected, which makes a discussion of their professional behaviors extremely thorny. It is therefore not surprising that in the thirty years of the significant presence of deaf students on the RIT campus, no public forum has presented this topic for debate.

It was against this background that Katherine, a deaf female com­munication major, using electronic mail, first exposed to the faculty and administration what she considered the failures of the sign lan­guage interpreters in conforming to the explicit standards of their Code. Katherine's decision to use public writing in order to enact change broke

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the long-standing silence about this issue on RIT' s campus. Some background information about Katherine is important in

understanding why she would take on this controversial issue. Pro­foundly deaf since birth and raised in a family and a larger commu­nity of poth deaf and hearing individuals, she successfully negotiated her world without the use of interpreters. Katherine reported to us that, in her experience, using interpreters was rare. Instead, she rou­tinely had one-on-one conversations without the presence of a third­party intermediary, which, she believed, led to more equality, forcing deaf and hearing people to acknowledge and resolve intercultural dif­ferences.

Because of her successful interpersonal communication strategies with hearing teachers and peers, Katherine became increasingly sensi­tive to what she labeled the "interference" of interpreters in academic settings. On the one hand, they provided necessary access to the main­stream experience. On the other, they hindered her sense of control of the communication process; for example, some professors talked and looked at her interpreters rather than at Katherine, leaving her a mere observer to her own conversation. Katherine began her self-advocacy at a community college, where she successfully tackled many inter­preting problems and brought awareness of deaf students' needs to a relatively small campus community, inexperienced with deafness. So, when Katherine arrived at RIT, knowing its large deaf population, she was both surprised and shocked by what she considered transgres­sions by interpreters of their Code of Ethics. Privately confronting in­terpreter managers, faculty, and deans, she used the appropriate and available mechanisms for presenting her concerns. When these strate­gies failed to address, let alone solve, the problems Katherine had iden­tified, she decided to go public through writing.

In assuming the stance of public writer, Katherine followed what she believed to be a reasonable approach in raising a controversial is­sue. She had certainly internalized one of the goals of her writing courses- to use written language to effect change. What she did not anticipate, however, was the curious combination of misunderstand­ing and anger which resulted. Within the hearing community of the college, the issues she raised were largely ignored, while from the deaf community, she was exiled. Little did she know of the storms that would ensue from her decisions. Little had we as teachers done to prepare her for them.

Methodology

The unexpected community responses prompted us to examine Katherine's rhetorical action more thoroughly. To begin our study, we

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examined the e-mail document Katherine sent to all RIT faculty and the chief academic administrators as well as the leaders of the deaf student government group. The text that Katherine distributed con­sisted of three parts. First, in a cover letter (Appendix A) in which she presented herself as Director of Academic Affairs for the deaf student government group, she urged her readers to become informed about interpreters' roles and the Code of Ethics so "fewer students will feel they are alone when confronting problems with interpreters." The let­ter also alluded to general concerns of deaf students regarding inter­preters at RIT and encouraged everyone to work together to satisfy guidelines from both the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and the Code of Ethics. Second was an attached e-mail message from a lawyer (Appendix B) who had advocated for deaf clients' rights under ADA. The lawyer's excerpted text offered interpretations of the lan­guage of ADA as well as examples of what she considered inappropri­ate interpreter behavior. Third was the complete version of the Regis­try of the Interpreters for the Deaf (RID) Code of Ethics with Gutdelines (Ap­pendix C).

Our next step was to analyze the e-mail messages from the few RIT faculty and administrators who responded publicly. Another im­portant site for our analysis was the electronic notes conference board where the deaf community conducted an extensive and heated dia­logue.

The final phase focused on three one-hour interviews with Katherine. Before the first interview, we presented her with a list of written questions for her consideration regarding her motives, her rhe­torical decisions, and her assessment of the community reactions. We decided to conduct the interviews ourselves in sign language, elimi­nating the third-party presence of an interpreter. This format was de­liberately chosen in order to respect Katherine's wish for direct com­munication and to allow her to be completely candid in her responses. We took notes during the interviews, paraphrasing in written English Katherine's signed answers to our questions. Later, over a period of several weeks, we compared our notes to ensure consistency and ac­curacy in our interpretation of her signed comments . Katherine's re­sponses informed our analysis by helping us understand not only her experience but also our responsibility, as teachers, to better guide those marginalized students who take the rhetorical stage.

Analysis

Katherine followed all the rules she understood would produce successful persuasive discourse. In her cover letter, she identified her­self through her role as a Director of Academic Affairs within the deaf

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student organization (NTID Student Congress) as a way of establish­ing her own authority. Confidently using the first person singular point of view at the beginning of her letter, she later shifted to the plural "we," aligning herself with the larger deaf campus community and thereby asserting that the" ethical issues with sign language interpret­ing that merit attention" were campus-wide concerns. Katherine ad­hered to the rhetorical advice that writers should take advantage of the power of the collective voice in identifying a problem. Her strat­egy failed, however, because she had not fully enlisted the support of the group she claimed to represent.

The leaders, as well as the general membership of the deaf stu­dent organization, responded vehemently to Katherine's use of her title and position to promote what many perceived as her own cause. These leaders challenged Katherine's representation of herself as speaking for the entire NTID Student Congress (NSC) by issuing an e-mail letter to all faculty and staff, disassociating themselves from the implication that Katherine spoke on behalf of the organization. By doing so, the student leaders shifted the focus of the conversation away from the interpreting issues Katherine had raised to her inappropriate use of her leadership position.

In addition to attempting to establish her own authority in her cover letter, Katherine also followed the well-established rhetorical strategy of citing legal documents and expert sources, having "learned" that personal experience is often not valued as legitimate support for an argument. She appropriately referred to the guidelines of the ADA and appended the full text of the RID Code of Ethics. Another rhetori­cal strategy was Katherine's excerpting of passages from a lawyer's e­mail message which described other interpreter "transgressions" that this legal authority had personally observed. Katherine assumed that the attorney's legal work and advocacy for deaf clients and the ADA would confirm that interpreter/ client problems were widespread and in need of attention. The fact that she relied on a hearing rather than a deaf attorney was a deliberate political move by Katherine, who as­sumed her RIT audience would be more receptive to/persuaded by a hearing expert's claims. When asked during her interview why she included this correspondence, Katherine responded that the lawyer was hearing and therefore had more power and credibility.

According to Katherine, the rhetorical decisions she made for reaching her hearing audience were right. What she had not antici­pated, however, was that her letter, originally intended for a hearing audience, would quickly reach the deaf community. Their reactions were completely at odds with Katherine's intent. One student wrote about the attorney Katherine quoted, "She's a hearing woman who's taken on the 'cause' of deaf people with all the best intentions, I'm sure, but don' t believe everything she writes." Such a comment im-

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plied that Katherine was a "turncoat" because she chose to put for­ward a hearing rather than a deaf expert- one whose motives were questionable within some segments of the deaf community.

For additional support in developing her argument, Katherine selected and appended particular passages from the attorney's longer e-mail message. For example, she eliminated one paragraph in which the lawyer defined a "professional" as one educated at the graduate level, as opposed to "certified" as one trained at the high school or junior college level. This deleted paragraph included the lawyer's defi­nition of an interpreter, which was based on the language and analo­gies used in the ADA legislation, where interpreters are termed "aux­iliary aids." They are listed along with such services as computer­aided transcriptions, telephone handset amplifiers, closed caption de­coders, telephones compatible with hearing aids, and so forth. The Interpreter's Code of Ethics reinforces the ADA definition by describ­ing the interpreter's "only function as facilitator of communication . .. [who] shall not counsel, advise, or interject opinions" (par. 3). Read­ers did not have the full context of the ADA language, which fueled their reaction to the paragraph Katherine did include:

An interpreter is an assistant and a servant, NOT a "profes­sional." An interpreter is not a " star" or a "professional advi­sor" or a "representative" or someone with superior knowl­edge or expertise. An interpreter is simply an "assistive de­vice" for information. Training and education in sign language for an interpreter simply makes the process of information smoother-just as an upgrade to a telephone line makes a tele­phone call easier. Interpreters are in a vocation, not a "profes-. " SlOn.

The reaction from many of the deaf students was fast and fierce. In a student-run notes conference focusing on Katherine's correspon­dence to the RIT faculty, one student responded sarcastically, "Inter­preters aren't allowed to be *human*? What a gross misrepresenta­tion calling them ' assistive devices.' And they cannot become 'profes­sional'? I have seen many that deserve high recognition for their accu­racy and obvious dedication and love of their career." In a hallway conversation, one interpreter, an African-American woman, wondered if the Emancipation Proclamation had been repealed; the word "ser­vant" insulted both her job and her race.

Our question to Katherine concerned why she had not predicted the explosive reaction that these rhetorical decisions would provoke. She responded that she found the excerpted passages "clear and straight-forward," matching her own intent to be "informative and neutral." When we questioned her further about the problematic na-

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ture of choosing an excerpt with such highly contentious language, such as the word "servant," Katherine defended her decision by say­ing that the letter was another person's work and she "had no control over that."

We contend that another possible reason for Katherine's attrac­tion to the language of the lawyer's message may lie in the context of reader response theory (Rosenblatt). Katherine did what all readers do: she applied her personal interpretive frame to the text, reading her own world into it. In doing so, Katherine was seduced by the content; she focused on those aspects of the lawyer's e-mail message which matched her experiences and biases while ignoring other linguistic aspects of the text, such as the impact of word choice. For example, consider the lawyer's language in the following paragraph, which Katherine also included in her correspondence:

There are too many interpreters out there who are asserting to deaf people that the interpreters make the rules, and that deaf people must follow what the interpreter dictates. I have ob­served interpreters who have refused to move when a deaf person requests it, because they were standing directly in front of a bright light or bright window, with the glare directly into the eyes of a deaf person. I have seen interpreters refuse to move to a different location when a deaf person is required to join work groups in different parts of a room. I have seen too many interpreters assume that they are "professionals" when such is not the case.

The verbs in this paragraph-dictate, assert, refuse, assume-as well as the repetition of "I have seen/ observed," conveyed a combat­ive and self-righteous tone. Katherine reported to us, however, that what was most important to her was not the tone of the paragraph but the line, "Interpreters make the rules and deaf people must follow what the interpreter dictates." Her frustration with what she considered "oppression" by the interpreters and her comment to us that "deaf people are often kinder and more lenient with interpreters than they SHOULD be," may explain the temptation of the lawyer's language.

As a final comment on Katherine's correspondence, it is interest­ing to note the responses she received from her intended audience­the RIT faculty and administration. Out of 750 full-time faculty, six (yes, only six) posted e-mail replies to her message. Every one con­tained praise for the dedication and value of the interpreters and side­stepped the persistent breaches of professionalism which Katherine raised. None confronted the real possibility that her claims warranted discussion, a necessary first step to begin the conversation that Katherine desired. More painful to Katherine were the scorn and deri-

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sion she faced in her academic and social life. Katherine- not the is­sues she raised- became the target of campus-wide anger. Feelings were so intense that she chose to leave school for several quarters. Katherine's reputation at this Institute continues to rest on her author­ship of this e-mail message. On a more positive note, however, this experience was the catalyst for her senior thesis, in which Katherine explored, from an intercultural perspective, the anxiety and uncertainty of deaf students communicating with professors in the presence of sign language interpreters.

Implications for Teaching

How do we use this case study to inform our pedagogy as we encourage our basic writing students to become active agents of change? How do we better prepare them to know the complexities that influ­ence the design and reception of their ideas? And, how do we better prepare them for the risks they might face when they take on the role of public writer? In grappling with these questions, we find useful Marilyn M. Cooper's theoretical construct of "dynamic, interlocking systems that structure the social activity of writing" (7). In her article, "The Ecology of Writing," she describes five systems-of ideas, pur­poses, interpersonal interactions, cultural norms, and textual forms­as ways in which writers "connect. .. through writing" (8). This eco­logical model can help us reframe our understanding of what basic writers need in order to succeed in the public sphere.

Cooper first describes the "system of ideas" as a two-part con­struct: knowledge comes from individual experiences and observation, and from mastery of a topic's complete and" relevant idea system" (8). Katherine did turn her own history into knowledge and attempted to enter the idea system of interpreter I client issues by corresponding with a lawyer and becoming well versed in the Code of Ethics and the AD A. However, like many writers from the margin, Katherine's entry into the discourse, as well as her ability to reach her rhetorical goal, were impeded by her reliance on the most obvious and accessible sources. She did not fully familiarize herself through research with the broader conversations surrounding the interpreter I client issues she was put­ting forth, causing her argument to lack completeness and complexity.

A second aspect of Cooper's "ecological model" is the "system of purposes," which, like that of ideas, results from the interaction be­tween the individual and a larger group. She contends that, "An indi­vidual impulse or need only becomes a purpose when it is recognized as such by others" (8). For Katherine, the need to educate the RIT fac­ulty and administration about the appropriate role of interpreters and the choice to go public with her criticism were not shared by the larger

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deaf community on campus. She did not actively work to understand their divergent points of view nor solicit their support, which would have helped her build a political coalition within this group, therefore preventing the unexpected backlash.

A third related category is that of "interpersonal interactions," a system in which writers "regulate their access to one another" (8). This access is accomplished through "intimacy" -writers' similarity to their audience and their degree of power in controlling the actions of oth­ers. By virtue of her culture and her disability, Katherine had "kin­ship" with the group she was representing. But, she did not have the power to determine that group's public agenda. With the hearing au­dience she had neither intimacy nor power, which further marginalized Katherine and her concerns. Her understanding was that she had to find supporting evidence for her point of view because she was not part of the cultural or academic mainstream.

Cooper's" system of cultural norms," like that of" purposes" and "interpersonal interactions," takes its meaning from the larger group in which the writer claims membership. What differentiates this sys­tem from the others is "the notion of what role the writer takes on in a particular piece of writing" (9). Katherine assumed the role of spokes­person for the deaf community on the RIT campus, but as spokesper­son she did not represent accurately the full range of attitudes within her community.

The last system is "textual forms," which Cooper defines as "the means by which writers communicate" (9). These means can be con­servative and traditional, but also new. Katherine used e-mail as a means of distribution. Her purpose in taking advantage of this me­dium was to reach a broader audience and to make more convenient their engagement in a discussion about her issue. Katherine did not anticipate that, along with its benefits, using e-mail also made the de­livery of this document to an unintended audience inevitable.

What we learned about Katherine's venture into the public sphere, when put in the context of Cooper' s model, offers some practical peda­gogical considerations for those who teach basic writers. We know, for example, that many of these students struggle with certain aspects of academic literacy. Their limits with critical reading, with the lan­guage conventions of academic discourse, and with general world knowledge often undermine their understanding of how to present their views within any topic's " system of ideas." These writers, there­fore, often perceive research as so insurmountable and mysterious that they meekly pluck from it the few accessible sources that support their opinion. As teachers, we need to reframe and emphasize the purposes and practices of research when going public. Rather than watching students fall prey to these fears and insecurities, we can inspire them

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to view research as the presentation of their ideas within the larger context of existing conversations about a topic, both in support and in opposition. Designing classroom activities and assignments that will give our students the confidence to go beyond their comfort levels and to propel them into thorough research will make them more effective as writers. For basic writers in particular, persistent attention to" taken­for-granted" critical reading strategies (analysis of tone, bias, writer's position and credibility) is crucial. These skills developed in writing classes would, in turn, bolster student success in advocating for the social changes they see as necessary.

In addition, the rhetorical implications of the collective voice must be more thoroughly explored. When the speaker presents herself as "we," she must understand that the individual and the group purpose are united and presented as one. Teachers can prepare students to en­gage in discussion, debate, and negotiation, necessary first steps for gaining consensus. In helping our students to take on a public voice, we need to provide not only classroom team and group activities but also more instruction in how to make an individual need become a group purpose. With this accomplished, the individual basic writer, backed by a larger number of supporters, may have more success in reaching and affecting the dominant group.

Finally, teachers and students together must develop a more so­phisticated understanding of the potential and the limitations of elec­tronic textual forms for public discourse. Spooner and Yancey, in ana­lyzing e-mail, report on its role in creating "an ideology already at work ... , [that] entails social action" (264). They also discuss the changes in the role and authority of the author and in the relationship between author and audience. If these modifications can actually be brought about by e-mail, then basic writers will have more equitable participation, and even leadership, in public debate, rather than being barred from it, as they often have been from already-established genres.

Our title sounds a warning bell to all teachers who have romanti­cized the idea of the rhetorical stage being equally accessible to all stu­dents, with none being privileged over another. As our study so pain­fully demonstrates, the reality is far distant from the ideal, especially for students on the boundary. When we actively encourage basic writ­ers to enact change, we are obligated to be honest with them about the perils and inequities of the current public sphere, which is only occa­sionally egalitarian and democratic. Weisser emphasizes that student writers must be taught "the degree to which their social status and differences from others will affect how their writing is evaluated" (103). In other words, our students need to understand that social, economic, political, cultural and ideological forces affect "what public writing is and how it works or fails to work in specific circumstances" (Weisser

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97). We must include activities in our pedagogy that will teach them how to navigate the turbulent waters they are certain to enter. Our idealism about empowering basic writers to change their lives and the lives of others must be tempered by the truth that the personal risks they take may result in disappointment and disillusionment. Let's be careful what we ask for and whom we ask.

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Februaxy g' -

Deer Faculty and Staff of RIT:

AI a Director of Ac&daic Affairs for H'l'ID Student Congre .. (HSC). t llll

contacting you ca behalf of ll'l'ID cO!IIID.I:lity regarding ethical inue• with 1ign language int~etin9 that Mrit attention. We feel tilat a• the faculty and 1taff beca.e more aware of the int~reter•' true role, fewer 1tadenc1 will fHl they are alone wa eoafronting probl8111S with interpreters . Oftentimes, people are ~familiar with the interpreters• Code of Ethics &Dd we feel it is illperative for tb faculty &Dd staff to be educated on thi•. '1'be reason h that, in addicior. to deaf 1tudente, you, ae faculty and 1taff m.Dbers, do rely on iat~reten.

'1'll.e concerns llurround!.ng t.'ul Department of Interpretillq Service• and the int~reten at RIT have been ongoing . Br.clo•ed is a 1elec:tion fr0111 a :awye: rega::li."'g to ~ American~ with Di1&biliti .. Act (ADA), and w are &1110 attac:hil!q a copy of Regbtry Inte:rpretizlg for the Deaf I RID I Code of Ethic:•, 11ince it i1 the right of do! and hearing people alike to knew u cons-a of !nt~reting Services .

I would like to Rlqlr .. s rtf11 appreciation for your c:coperatioa to oalce time and read this letter. 'l'hank you for bec:DIIling more knowledgeable about this .ubjec:t ao we can work together to ensure that the IUD Co4e of Ethics and ADA are adhered to. If there ill any quutions or concern•, do not helitate to contact 1118 at ....., __ _

Sincerely,

Jt&theri.na __ .._ __ _

Ac:adedc Attain Director of N'1'ID S~t Congre ..

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:he ADA cd the interpreter• ' role: Appendiz B

6cerpts fran an e-lll&ilme .. age froat. B.A., M.S., J.D. ABPDC to the Deaf COIDIIlnity. Plea1e note that the e~:!.es listed below are 4nea that · encountered.

the .AIIIericana With Disabilities Act. u it .i1 written • . .. says tha: wterpreten DDt be QOALIPIID, not 'certified.'

A 'qualified' interpreter ia 'qualified' in the mind and opinion of the ~ i."'dividual who is utilizing the eervice, not in the opinion of 1011111

~ertification group.• The entire policy of the Alllericans With Disabilities Act (ADA) is to stop auyoae (including interpreters) fran interfering witb tb8 fr­(ight of a deaf person ·to make his or her own life choices and decisio'lll . Please read the Introduction ~o the ADA .

All interpreter is an usiatant and a ae:rvmt, NOT a •professional. • AD interpreter is ~ot a 'st~· or a 'professional advisor• or a •representative' or sOJMOne with superor lcnowledge or expertise . An Uiterpreter is 1illlply an 'uaiative device' for informacion. Training and o)ducation in .sign lenguage for an interpreter si.mply makes the .procua of ~ormation smoother-- just u an UP!Jrade to a telephone line Makes . a ~l.phone call clearer. Interpreters are in a vocation, not • •profesaion.•

There are too many interpreters out there who are assert~!! to deaf people that the interpreters make the rulea, and t!lat deaf people lliUSt follow what the interpreter dictates. I ·have observed inte!'Preters who have refu .. d to 110va whc a dee:f penon requests it, because tiley were standillq directly in front of a bright light or bright window, witil the gl~re directly into the eyes "f a duf penon. I have .. en interpreters refuse to 1110vv to a different tocation vban a du.f person is required to join work g:roup1 in different parts ot! a rooa. I havw a.- too -..y· interpreters aasume tha.t they are "profulionals' wtw1 such ia not the cue. I have 1een many interpreters .J~:cepting high f- for 1arvic .. whan ti1ey are obviously unable to under1tand ~t a !learing person is talking about -- and they aven.rephrue or skip large portion.s of the 8Pft)cer' s menage in order to hide their iacCiq)&tar.ce. I have ~aen interpreters accept jobl in Ph.D.-level classe1 when they bavan't the ~lighte1e ida& .of what the wtructor i1 tdlting about . I have 1aan i~t.rpretera show up late to interpret tor a parson who knows sign l&nguage. ind than ~ that the hearing person atop dgning, e'Nil when that hearing Signer is doing 11a1ch better at conveying their -•••ge thiUl he paic

. ,:nterpretar. I b8ve obserVed ineerpretars goniping about the;.r deaf client• dll4 sharing infor3&tion on whether or not the other interpreter• ebould l&rYI a particular deaf person I have seen 10 many ethical violationa it makes me ill.

No communication channel ia .alwaya perfect, and interpreters are often .placed into difficult situations. Many do very vell, and the duf penon dou .understand the ditficulties faced. in many situations by an inte:preter. I have, howver, noted that in the majority of situati011.1, the duf person is ·often ld.nder and 110:re lenient with the interpreter, and the interpreter hu an •attitude' of 1uperiority that n~ to· be adjusted. . .• . The best intepreter

·for any deaf individual il one that knows the specific needs of the apecitic dM.f person and tb8n drops their 'ego' to co~~phtely aerve the needs of the dM.t: individual. This ehould be the goal ot all interpreters -- to di:icover the actual new for cOIIIIIUilication of each individual ae.."Ved, and than attampt to be •of service• and not in control.

(If you would like a full copy of this letter by _____ _..'"-

pleue aend 1111 e- mail at and I would be !lOre than happy to se.'ld you one. I

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RID c~ of 'ltl!.ie~~ with OW.delines

Interpreting ahall rater to interpratinv or tranailit.ratiD; from sign to speech or froa IPHCh to dgn.

Interp"tera:

1. Shall keep all ~tarprated and aaeignaent-ralat.d ialormation atrictly c:oafidential.

a. lDterpretere ~~~~at not ravul Womation abollt any intupAtiDQ auiv-t, iDclud!llq tlul fact that an a11i~t il bei:l; doa.a. lv.a. tha a~a: 1-.in;ly illaoc:uoua ia.foratioa. could be duagia; ill tha vronv lwldll. 'l'o avoid uu poaaibility, and tha rupoaeibiliey llihich s;oas with it, interpnta::s ~at not aq aeyt.hiA; about any interpreting ;job.

b. If a probl• ariaas witt. the t!at penou &ZI4 the ia.terprater faels a DMCI to diacuaa it with •- <Ntal..de party, allellw aboul4 fuse db::usa it witb ·the deaf pera011, and, i!: no agr.-t b raac:Md, tha two of tbB abou!4 decide wba can a4YUa t!Ma.

c. lbCl traillin; other ia.terpnte::a by tba -~ of 1bari%1Q actual U»&ri.acu, ia.tL>'retara ab.ould not :rl'll&l. any of tba followizlq WoxwatiOil: -· •u:. age, ttc. of tb.a dMf or baaring parsoa(s) 1 day of wU;, tiM ot c!q or ti• of year t he aituatiou took place; tha location, iDcludi119 t!i.e city, atata, or agency; other people iavolvad; unnecessary speci~ica about the aituaticm. It oaly ta.Ma e lllirli.am amo~:.nt of Womatioa to identify the partiea iDvol vad.

2. Call raa4er a faithful. interpntatiOil, alw.ys CCIDVI)'ing the coatct and ap!zit of tba apulc.er, v.ain; lan;ua~ 1101t readily undaratcpd by tba paraOM for Wbca tlwy are ia.tarpratiDg.

a. I:lterpretere are net editors an4 JaUat interpret evuyt:hillq Wic!l b aaic! in exactly the ._ way it wu intaa4ed. Tllia ia aapacially difficult whm the interpreter cSia&grMS with wbat ia baing aaid or feall uncOIIIforta!lle ~ ;~roeanity l.a baing v.aed. Incerpraters should r-.bu tbat tbay are aat at Ul :upouibll for wat il aaid, oaly for c:Oa.veyui119 ir.fors~&tion accurately. U :ba ia.cerpratazO. OWD fMlizlga interfere with raadal:ing a faithtul intL-pratation, aba/ba ah<Nld withdraw frca tlul dtua.tioa..

l:l. While ia.terpre'l:ia.q into aign, the intarpnter a~~t -=icata in :ba - .,.t auily anc!eratood by the dea: pancm(aJ, be it r.sr., Mml&lly

coded ID;lilb., fia;.rspelliDg, -.out!Wig, ;aaturu, drawing or writing, etc. It i.a illpo:rtmt for tha ia.tarpratar and tba .dM! para= to apaa4 a- tiM a4juatincr to each otll.r' a wy of c~icating prior to tba actual 1.ntarpretill9 aituat.ioa. tlba intarp:retiaq ia.to apeecb, tlul iuterpratv llhoul4 apeak thtl ~ apolcC\ by tba baari~~g pereon, be it ID;liah, Spaai.ah, Frea.cb., etc.

3. Shall uot CO\II:IIel, ad9ica, or interject paraOII&l opiaiona (while func:tioa.in; ill thil role) •

.7uat u intarpretan ay apt oait anythiq lllb.ich i" laid (a" ao.2), tbay ay DOt aM ~ to tha lituation ·- wbau t!wy an ukH to dD so by othc pa..-tiaa illvolftd. All intUpratar b cmly pnunt in a give aituation ~· two or .on people bava ditfiC10lty c~cat.illg , 1M thua tba !Dterpnteza. cmly functiOCL ia that of tacilit&tor of c-=icatiou. Sba/1!. may not t.co. ~soa.ally i.nvol'led becauae b ao doing aha/b. will ta.M on a- :ra~~poMibility fo:r tlul <Nt~. which doll uot d;htly beloag to tbe ia.tarpretv •.

'· Shall uaa diac:ratioa 1:1 acceptincr aui~ta witb. rev"ard to altiUs, aatti..g, &Ill! tba par•ona l'eqll .. till8 tba aamca.

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a. AD intup~eter •hould only acce;~t udgDMnta fo~ which •he/be f"la ~Mdy. However, w.n an interpreter •ho~tage exbta and the only available i.Dterpretedr doe• not po8n•• 816Uicient •kill fo~ a pa~ticulu u•ig~Dmt, thi• situation •hould be explained to the deaf and hea~izli c~• of the int•rpretizlg •uvice. If tlwy agree that a lu•n-akilled interp~eter b bette~ than ao interp~eter o~ that tlwy c-t wait until a better-•ld.lled intazvretu bee~• available, then tl:e lu•er-aldlled int~eter will . be- to ue hb or her be•t judg-t about accepting o~ turning &Nn the auiv-t. All interpreter• can benefit frc. additional training in ueaa in .tdch tlwy lack aldll.

b. Certain dtuatioaa ay p~- unc:OIIIfortahle fo~ aoae intupreten. For exa.ple, a .ale interp~eter may f .. l uncomfo~able interpreting for a deaf ~~e patient in · the doctorOa office. Some ·interpreter• will be uncaafo~tahle in aituationa wbare controv.raial iuuea ._.._ 4iacuaed or in religioua aettinp wbue what b being caught diftera fr011 the interpreterOa belief•. An interpreter •hodd not i:iterpret in aettinp vbich ahe/he lalowa will zwg&tiv.l.y affect being able to l'CI4er a fGthful int~etati011.

c . Interpreter• ahould refrain fl'OII interpreting in aituatiocs 'lbere family ~ra or cloae penonal or profuaicnel rela:ioaahip• MY affect iql&rtialiti. !va the 110at adept interpreter. ce.nnOt be expected to ... Jt inlla1' f"linga when interpreting. for othera who uy affect thai~ ~iv.a in •oae -Y. lJI14er then cirCIIIIIItlllll:••· upecially in legal nttinga, the abilityy to prove oneaelf unlrl.ued whan challenged ia grMtly le .. enad. In ~ency aituatiOila it ia rMlized that the interpreter uy ha- to interpret for family Mlllben, frienda, or cloae l:uatn.aa uaociatu. Rowvu, all pareiu llhollld be inf=-4 that the interpreter MY DOt become pu•onally i.mrolved in the proceedinp.

5. Shall cSul with the ll&tter of caapenaatioa for •ervice• in a profe••ional a!1d :ludicioua - land ab&l.l be knowledgeable about the c:urr.nt f" guideline• ww-ated by the natio:aal organization) .

a. Interpreter• are trained to work in a profuaional -=-r and an coneidend profeaaionala. 'l'hanfore, tlwy ahoul.d be knowledgeable about f­wbich an appropriate to that p~f••don.

b. Since a •liding acale of hourly and daily rat•• baa been aet up fo~ interpreter• in .aey ueaa, all interpreter• ahouid haw m ida of their -:.eval of akilb and the expected pay within their cate;ory. ~ can be

wterained by conaiduation of aevval facton, IIUCh u: level of :ertification, lan¢h of uperience, uture of the uai~t. and the local :oat of liv ing 1nd.X 1$7 .SO an hour ~~ay ••a high 1n one geogra01hical ana 'tNt .ow in &AOtbu) •

c. Thue are timaa when interpreter~ provide •uvice• without c:~~arve. ~· ahaul4 be done with cue end ·in auch a way aa to p~uuva the aelf-rupec:t lf the cona~::a . In otber wo~da, con&UMra •hould DOt feel they an rec:ipienta )f charity.

::an 8haulcl be taken when interpreting withaut c:barve that other interpreter• .rill be p~tec:ted. In other word&, a fr•-l&ACe interpreter MY depeD4 011 thi• 110rlt for a living and C&ZliiOt IMlte it withaut c:Jw:ving Wile other pu•Oila b&w full-tiM work and can interpret u & favor withaut e .. ling it ia a lo•• of l.ncoae. .

6. Shall not per1mally p~fit froa aey information in the coune of interpreting.

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Interpreters -.e aot taka e4vantqe oC kzaowlqe acquired while iDterpretiD;. Por ex&.ple, if, at an interpreted .. etiag, it is &DDouaced that a staff intvpnter in a partic:ular agency h going to be Ured, the interpreter at ttw -tine c:aJIDOt ~ately go and apply for tha job or tell ottutn about it.

7. Through the aational organization and atate chapter&, &hall aeek to uphold the L~te;rity of the profe•aion by encouraging the uae o~ ~ified interpreters in order to achieve the highest ·standard&.

Intarpretera working u officers and c:OIIII.itt .. malllbera in tha national RID and local arD cbapte~s sbaul~ press for high atandards among interpreters . For ex&ll\)le, encouraging aqccias to hire only ce=tified interpreters and the settiag liP of a lleCh&Diaa to achievw C:OII!Plianc:e with the Code of Ethics are twO of the my thinga which can be dona. ·

·8. Shall continue to dsvelop bi1 interpreting skills and kee~ abreast ·of devwlopM.'"Lts in the field by particiP«::iDil in professional -tings. 'by joining with profe .. ioaal colleagues for the p10rp011a of sb&::inq info:cmation, and by reading current literature in :he field.

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Works Cited

Bizzell, Patricia. Academic Discourse and Critical Consciousness. Pitts­burgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1992.

Bruffee, Kenneth A. "Collaborative Learning and the 'Conversation of Mankind."' College English46 (1984): 635-52.

Code of Ethics Page. Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf. 22 January 2002 http:/ jwww.rid.org/code.html.

Cooper, Marilyn M. "The Ecology of Writing." Writing as Social Ac­tion. Eds. Marilyn Cooper and Michael Holtzman. Portsmouth: Heinemann-BoyntonjCook, 1989.

Elbow, Peter. Writing Without Teachers. New York: Oxford University Press, 1973.

Murray, Donald M. A Wn'ter Teaches Writing. 2nd ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1985.

Rose, Michael. Lives on the Boundary. New York: Free Press, 1989. Rosenblatt, Louise M. Literature as Exploration. New York: Modern

Language Association of America, 1938. Spooner, Michael and Kathleen Yancy. "Postings on a Genre of Email."

College Composition and Communication 47.2 (1996): 252-274. Trimbur, John. Rev. of Academic Discourse and Cn'tical Consciousness,

by Patricia Bizzell. College Composition and Communication 45 (1994): 108-118.

Weisser, Christian R. Moving Beyond Academic Discourse: Composition Studies and the Public Sphere. Carbondale: Southern Illinois Uni­versity Press, 2002.

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